Truth is more important...

Last week, I received an email that our school will be having a visiting counselor for any staff that would like some time to process through personal issues.  Since I’m a counselor, I’m all for seeing one!  I’ve never really been one to hide issues or feel embarrassed if I need to talk about them.  However, I always leave room in case it doesn’t “work out.”  I let Ben know that I’ll be leaving on the 5:00 bus, unless I don’t think he’s a good counselor, and I’ll try to rush our session and leave on the 3:45 bus.  :) That’s me trying to be logical with my time.  

Well, he was in fact a great counselor, and it was well worth my time.  I’ll spare you all the details of the session, but I’m so glad that I got to process through all the transition I’ve been in.  Personally, I think our school needs at least a part time counselor for our staff… it seems very much needed. But that’s beside the point.

Because the counselor and I spent some time talking on a professional level as well, he felt as if he could speak counselor to counselor.  At the end of our session, he said, “I’m going to say something very un-counselor like.” He paused as he carefully chose his words, “Your life sucks right now. And I’m glad I’m not you.”  I laughed at his comment, ...and I realized what he did was actually a very counselor like thing to do, as he was trying to disengage and allow me enough humor to move on.  He continued to say, “You’re in the middle of transition. You’re in the middle of the wilderness.”  I finished his sentence and said (just like I’ve said to dozens of other people) “…and there’s no 3 step process or book that’s going to fix me.”  “That’s right,” he said.  “You are right where you should be. In the wilderness.” Then we said at the same time, “It doesn’t help, but it’s the truth.”  As I laughed at our simultaneous statement he ended our conversation with, “That’s okay that it doesn’t help.  It’s the truth.  And the truth is more important than feeling helped.”

Feeling Grumpy

Nothing bad happened. Maybe I was a bit more tired than usual today, but I didn't forget anything today.  No one really got on my nerves. The day came and went, probably smoother than a lot of other days this semester.  I finished Pinyin today in Chinese class... this is definitely something to be celebrated.  I ate my husband's great chili for lunch, I had good conversations with people...

...But today, I was grumpy.

I don't think anyone noticed.  I tend to just stay by myself when I'm in these moods.  But I knew I was tired, and annoyed, not any one, but just at life.  Days like today make me wish I could choose to stay home because I don't know if I did anyone good by being outside of my apartment.

On the bus back home, I checked my heart.  Is there something wrong?  Did I get enough sleep last night?  Did someone hurt my feelings?  Am I enjoying my job?  Everything seemed to check out OK... so there was only one thing to do.

Stop being grumpy!

Yes, I can choose to NOT be grumpy.  I can choose NOT to be annoyed.  I can choose to love and act selflessly, even when I do NOT feel like it.  When I got home, I could have done many things to slap a band-aid on my grumpiness.  But I knew I would just bleed out until Ben came home... and then it wouldn't be pretty from there, either.  Instead, I listened, and I learned, and I was convicted, and I prayed.   (I also slept for 20 minutes and had a bit of chocolate... those things can help, too!)  Here's some of what I watched to heal my soul from being selfish, grumpy, and annoyed.

Matt Chandler:

Beth Moore:

The New Normal

It’s October 23^rd, and the weather is still beautiful. 

I just need a long sleeve, sometimes a jacket, and I can still wear flip-flops.  I realized today that I love to take the bus into town on Sunday mornings.  Ben and I always get a seat—it’s never a busy bus on Sunday mornings.  We sit, we talk, we stare out onto the ocean. It’s only a 20 minute ride on a somewhat-dirty Chinese bus, but I really enjoy it. 

Life in China is officially normal. 

I’m illiterate here, and I’m doing just fine.  I can have a 2-minute conversation in Chinese with a 5 year old, but that’s all.  I’m okay with that for now.  Cheese is our food of choice for excitement.  Cheese and crackers, cheese and apples, cheese on top of anything.   Cheese is expensive here, but we still love it, and now that is normal.

I’m learning how to connect with high school students. 

Some want help, some don’t.  Some want help but want you to work really hard for their trust.  One girl recently sat in my office, obviously hurting, but looked at her watch and said, “I’m going to sit here for 17 more minutes, but you can’t make me tell you anything.”  Another girl runs to my office and says, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened this week.”  I’m learning how to express ideas, how to listen, how to adapt counseling ideas to fit this culture.   I wouldn’t trade this job for anything.

I’m learning the basics of my faith. 

I am now working with the High School youth group on Friday nights. Most of the students that come are from our school.  Jason, another teacher at the school, gave the talk for last week’s youth group.  He talked about what our personal relationship with Him should look like, and how to define it. He said that we should not define our relationship with God by what we do to upkeep the relationship… we should define it by what He has already done for us on the Cross.  I was convicted by his message, realizing that I rely on routines and charts, and pretend points with God.

I’m learning to embrace distractions.

Saturday, my good friend Jen invited some of us over for a game night.  When we arrived at her apartment, I was surprised to see a foreigner I didn’t recognize. She was not from our school or our fellowship. We introduced ourselves, and quickly found out that Jen had met Nydia that day in the store. Nydia is from Dominican Republic, but had been living in NYC, and has lived in Qingdao for 4 months.  Nydia had not made a single friend.  We talked, played games, and left.  This morning (Sunday), we saw Nydia at fellowship. After talking with Jen, we found out Nydia had talked with Jen after we left and became a C.  Jen described it as: “She was just so ready!” 

If I had seen Nydia at the store, I probably would have passed right on by… 

He is teaching me everyday, and I am so thankful I am here to see it, experience it, and hopefully live it.

Sarah, The Six-Year-Old with Six-Hundred Questions

Writer's Club tonight.  We had to write a complete story in 26 sentences, each using the next letter of the alphabet.  It's a fun challenge, but I knew right away that I wanted to use a child for my story... mostly because of the excuse to make run-on sentences.  :)   Enjoy the story of Sarah, and her 600 questions. :)

A couple years ago, when I was only 6, I went through a phase of asking my mother question after question.

But I was not trying to be annoying and I really did want to know the answer to my question of why stars twinkle.

“‘Cause they just do,” mom would say.

“Do space ships run into starts?

Evan at school told me space ships blow up because of stars.”

Facts were very important to me at that age, and mom never gave it to me straight.

“Go ask your dad,” she said, almost every time! 

“How about swallowing gum?

I feel sick because Justine gave me a piece of gum yesterday and I swallowed it and she said it would be in my stomach for 7 years.”

“Justine was only kidding.”

“Kidding!” I yelled.

“Lying is more like it.

Mom, I need answers!”

Never before have I been so desperate.

“Or maybe, mom, I just need to know why stars twinkle!”

“Probably, because you are blinking.”

Question after question, the answers never seemed to fit and I was getting frustrated.

Resting for a moment, mom caught her breath like she was getting ready to say something important, and then she said it. 

“Stop… asking… questions!”

That’s when I knew my mom meant business.

Underneath all that yelling, I knew my mom wanted me to ask questions because she wanted to answer me, although she never really did.

Victory struck, though, when I asked one question that made mom leave the room.

“Where do baby’s come from?”

“Xenon; the planet Xenon,” she said quickly and walked away embarrassed.

“Yes, so there is a planet called Xenon,” I yelled to mom from the other room. 

Zealous for answers about this new planet, I kept on pressing everyday, but even though I’m 8 now, I still don’t know why the stars twinkle.

Thursday Thoughts: Writer's Club

Tonight at writer’s club, it was my turn to pick a prompt.  I simply googled “Writing Prompts” and found a great picture.  I couldn’t think through any story lines before I actually sat down at the coffee shop.  I’m currently reading a book where the main characters are cops, so this might be where I thought of my plot line. It’s not too original, but it was fun to write.  The “book” is called “Faithful Secrets,” and it’s about a con-woman who falls in love with a police officer.  He is unaware of her life until she reveals her secrets moments before their wedding. Once he knows the truth, she flees the scene, where the story picks up.  This writing is the actual ending (or ending-ish) of the “book” that is yet to be written.  But like I said, it’s not too original, so no such book will probably be written.   

However, enjoy the end of “Faithful Secrets.”

The lake had become sacred to her over the years. Nothing had been more constant, more promising, more real. Here, she felt alive.  Here, she could reveal her true self, even if it was only to the sparrows and the weeds.

Her eyes caught Jack from a distance. Her heart pounded in her ears to make a decision. She withdrew her pistol behind her back.  Looking away, she felt as vulnerable as she appeared.

He approached her slowly, noticing the glaze of her gown, the highlights in her hair, the tears tarrying on her cheek.

“Nicole. I need to know the truth.”

She did not waver. Her voice as consistent as the waves.

“My name if Faith. I like pancakes, and the color yellow.  I stole from Jonas Harrington but I didn’t mean to kill him.” She slowly lowers the gun as emotion overcomes her.

The silence between them was only cut by the chilling wind in their ears. Jack’s eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. He stepped forward, almost able to remove the gun from her shivering hands. Almost able to touch her.

“We can do this, together… Faith.” he whispers, more to himself than to her.

Her strong eyes meet his, and she raises the gun yet again. “No…  we can’t.” 

His face is overcome with hurt and surprise. He cautiously takes a step back, hands raised high.

She holds the gun tighter than before, her finger ready to pull the trigger.

The gentle waves bob the nearby boat up and down. Suddenly, she realizes her fate. Standing at the very place she felt most alive, in the most beautiful wedding gown she’d ever seen, she’s holding a gun to a man that loved the worst parts of her without knowing it. She lets her guard down for a moment, blinking long enough to see what could have been. She must make a decision. A regretful tear falls from her eyes, maybe from her choices in the past, or maybe because she knew the choice that was to come.

A gunshot sounds the same to any ear. It’s the sound of terror, of heartache, of desperation. It’s the sound of a choice that was made. A split second decision. A gunshot is the sound of a secret released, an outpouring of the soul, directed at one thing. 

She did not realize what had happened.  Not until the white of her dress began to stain with crimson. The slightest gasp left her speechless.  Jack’s hands did not quiver or shake while he lowered his gun, but he stood as empty as the wind. She collapsed onto her knees, and although they both knew she would live, neither felt relieved. She had faithfully kept her life a secret.  But in time, just as the blood filled her dress, so his love for her would fill her new life again.